


The Day After Tomorrow

by Thuri



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-14
Updated: 2004-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thuri/pseuds/Thuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy pays.  Dom gives him his money's worth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day After Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> B-day mathom for [](http://starlikeshadow.livejournal.com/profile)[**starlikeshadow**](http://starlikeshadow.livejournal.com/), who requested Monaboyd based around ["The Day After Tomorrow" by Saybia](http://s3.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=BA3C8A4BFA598A14E152715F5C52099C) (let me know if YouSendIt link expires). Preferably with Dom as a whore. Literally. Hope you all enjoy. Posted early 'cause she's had a hard day, and because I finished. Now to work on the others . . . And thanks to [](http://blackbird-song.livejournal.com/profile)[**blackbird_song**](http://blackbird-song.livejournal.com/) for the wonderful beta!

Dark. But then, the streets were always dark, lost in a haze of smoke, even when the sun dared show her face. And that was rare enough, in this northern, rain-soaked city.

Not, of course, that Dominic was often out during the daylight hours. His customers came only at night, after all. Only when a dark thicker than mere smoke cloaked their actions, their identities.

He'd stopped, once, to reckon it up. A good half of the ruling class residing in the city had tumbled him, or one of the other "lads of the evening" as they had so christened themselves. Porcelain-skinned Elijah could claim many of them, deceptively innocent eyes dark and wanton as he bragged of his conquests among the nobility. And few of those who came to them, those rich and powerful, few were female. It seemed the lords of this land had a taste for hard muscle and darkened lust that their hot-house flowers, their weak and feeble wives could not satisfy.

But none of Dominic's experiences, or Elijah's tales, none of his hauntings in the dark, his midnight excursions, had prepared him for this.

"No words, lad." The soft, even voice was at odds with itself, smooth, modulated tones against the rough Glaswegian accent. The green-eyed man may have been rich, may have been a lord, but he'd not been born such. The hands that held Dominic's hips, dug shadowed bruises into his skin, were rough and calloused, for all their dainty appearance. "No words. But make noise for me. Let me hear you, Dominic."

He'd not meant to give his real name. But now the syllables slid powerful and deadly from the other man's lips, causing Dominic to moan, to press his hips back of his own accord, impaling himself further on that impossibly thick cock.

"That's it, lad. Let it out. More. For me."

Give the customer what he wanted. First rule Elijah had taught him. First rule. But Dominic wanted it now, himself, for the first time in too long. Wanted it, burned for it, needed it.

The lord continued, gentle coaxing at odds with the harsh thrusts of his hips. "Aye, lad. Moan. Whimper. _Scream_. Want to hear you."

That voice. So even, so calm, so beautifully cruel. Like nothing he'd experienced, nothing he'd known.

And before the end, Dominic did cry out, did scream, his own release spilling over the lord's rough fingers.

The green-eyed man took his own pleasure, then, finishing with another series of brutally perfect thrusts, and Dominic could not breathe for his nearness, for the hot spill of seed within him. And always that voice, murmuring . . .

 

The lord would dress, soon enough. Take his time, pull himself together, pay and leave. As he'd done the first night. As he'd done every time after. And Dominic would recover, enough to make the requisite small talk, to half-smile with lowered lids, when the lord said they would see each other again.

And then he would leave. Leave Dominic alone to his darkness. Alone, to collapse onto the empty bed, ripe with the scent of their rutting. "William," he'd murmur to himself, hand drifting to his own cock again, uttering the lord's name only after he was gone. "My William . . ."


End file.
